The Herbalist's Apprentice
by The Lady of the Mists
Summary: Sandry, a young orphan taken in by Angela, trains to use her own branches of magic while fighting alongside Eragon and the Varden and applying her own healing skills to assist them in their dangerous rebellion against the King and Empire.
1. Sandry the Healer

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter One: Sandry the Healer

She could still remember the first time that she ever saw him, when he entered Angela's shop that day in Teirm. His youthful face that was filled with determination enchanted her, but there was also something mysterious about him, something that entranced her. The moment that Eragon, the Dragon Rider, entered into the shop, changed her forever.

There had been moments like this before in Sandrine's life, where she had been so changed by one moment that her life was never again the same. When her father had left, abandoning his wife and daughter in order to go find a woman who would give him the son he so desired. Her mother had tried to raise her as best she could, but the inn that she ran slowly turned to shambles in her husband's absence.

One night, some raiders came and torn the place apart for some cheap jewellery that her mother owned. Her mother was frightened by the thieves and managed to help her daughter escape, but her mother hadn't been able to escape the inn. Sandry watched from nearby as the inn was burned to the ground.

Later, when the robbers were gone, Sandry returned to the destroyed inn and found her mother's body. Or what was left of it. The burnt body was all that was left of her mother. If she hadn't found the locket her mother always wore, Sandry probably wouldn't have recognised her.

How it had survived the fire was beyond her, but Sandry had taken the locket and put it around her own neck, a reminder of what she had lost and a reminder of the mother she loved dearly. She still wore that locket now, refusing to take it off.

She had walked from the inn to the nearest city, which happened to be Teirm, and slept on the ground that night. The next morning, she awoke to find a curly haired woman with a pleasant smile standing next to her. Angela brought her into her shop and took her as her apprentice.

As Angela's apprentice, she learned all about herbs and plants, which ones would hurt and which ones would heal. She learned where to find them, when to cut them, how to use them in salve, ointment, or infusion. In time, there was not much that Angela had left to teach her, but Sandry was still only a child at the time, with nowhere left to go.

Now, at sixteen, many men had come to call on her and ask Angela's permission for marriage. Angela had laughed jovially before telling them that she was only Sandry's teacher, not her mother, and her choice for marriage would be her own.

But Sandry had no wish for marriage, not until she met the man who could respect her and who would allow her to think for herself. All the men that had come to call on her she could see only wanted a trophy wife. They were not interested in what was in her heart and soul. Not once did they ask her what she wanted, only told her what _they_ wanted.

It was only when Eragon walked through the door that Sandry found herself longing for the kind of life that people expected her to. But she knew all too well that her life was far from ordinary.

She watched him from the back, keeping a careful look as Angela cast the bones for him, not listening to her teacher's words, but watching Eragon as she hid amongst the herbs and plants that were in the shop. He must have sensed her watching him, because she saw him glance in her direction once, but she had always been adept at concealing herself and remaining hidden.

She was almost disappointed when he left, but she was glad that Angela had asked his name before he did—and even more relieved when he hadn't lied to her about it.

Eragon . . . she loved the sound of his name. It was a powerful name, too, for only a handful of people had been named after the first Rider. Angela watched him go before clearing up the dragon bones and replacing them in the sack that she held them in.

"Better put these in a place where I'll be able to remember them," Angela said dryly to he apprentice. Sandry jumped, startled, looking around at her teacher quickly. "What's the matter with you? You're never this jumpy, lass."

"Nothing," Sandry said quickly, a hot blush rising to her cheeks. Angela glanced towards the door where Eragon had vanished and a small, amused smile crossed her face. "I'll go put these away, shall I?"

"I'll do it," Angela said, shaking her head. "You always put things where I can't find them, Sandry." She paused. "It's been awhile since you've had a day off, hasn't it? I never let you have as much time away from here as you should. Go on, lass."

Sandry, knowing there would be no changing of Angela's mind, hurried to her small room, changing out of her plain, working gown. The green dress that she changed into was the only other dress she owned, made to wear on days where she wasn't to work in the shop. Slipping her grey-blue cloak over this, she seized her knife and hurried out of the back door of the shop, attaching the knife to her belt as she walked out onto the streets of Teirm. Her long mane of dark hair fell halfway down her back, framing a quiet and calm face with eyes like the sea.

Although Angela wasn't aware of it, she had recently gone to studying some forms of magic from books. Of course, the person who had the most books on the subject was Jeod, from next door. He normally didn't mind about her borrowing the books; in fact, he was thrilled that a youngster actually cared about learning. The trick was getting past his wife Helen. Usually, the butler opened the door, but this time it was Helen who opened the door.

"What do you want?" Helen demanded, glaring at the young healer as she stood nervously with the giant book in her hands.

"I wanted to return the book that I borrowed from your husband," Sandry said politely, not wanting to put the woman in a foul mood. Helen didn't move from her place at the door.

"Well, then, I'll give it back to him," she replied, reaching for the book. Sandry didn't give it to her, though.

"If you please, ma'am, I would like to borrow another one from him." It took as much will as Sandry had not to start snapping, but she restrained her temper in order to get through. The older woman hated it when she lost her temper. Of course, Helen didn't like her much to begin with, so that didn't matter much. But it was worse when Sandry got upset.

Helen's eyes narrowed, but she glanced up the stairs and suppressed a sigh. "He's in the study," she said briskly.

"Thank you very much," Sandry said as she opened the door wider. Not waiting to see if she would change her mind, Sandry hurried up the stairs, walking down the corridor quickly to the study. As she neared the study, she heard voices coming from the room.

She knocked on the door and the voices quieted immediately. "Come in!" Jeod's voice called. Sandry opened the door and allowed herself to walk in. "Ah, Sandry! Finish that one already?" he asked with a smile. There was another man with Jeod, as well as Eragon. She swallowed quickly and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "That's good. This is Sandry, by the way. She's Angela's apprentice, from next door."

"How do you do?" the man said politely. "I'm Neal and this is my nephew Evan." He nodded towards Eragon and Sandry suppressed the urge to roll her eyes; obviously they were here undercover for some reason. She could sense magic radiating from both of them. Obviously, Eragon was the new Rider people were talking about, but who was the old man?

"Pleased to me you," Sandry said when she was sure that her voice was steady enough. She glanced at Eragon quickly, who met her eyes once and there was a strange moment, as though something passed between them that she didn't understand. "Um, I would like to borrow another one, sir, if you don't mind?"

"No, of course not," Jeod assured her, waving towards the books. "Go right ahead. Sandry's quite the scholar," he explained to his friends. "She's here almost every day to get another book from me."

Sandry wandered over to the shelves, scanning the titles carefully. There were many books in his study, but she had read most of them, gobbling them up as fast as she could find them. She finally picked one of the books up and let out a deep sigh. "I think this one will do," she said, handing it to Jeod. He smiled slightly and opened up the book where he'd kept all records of what she'd borrowed and wrote down the book's title, _A Complete History of the Elves and Their Practices._

"I think you'll enjoy that," he said with a smile. "That one doesn't deal with everything that the Empire wants us to know; it actually has the complete history. Off with you, now."

"Thank you, sir," Sandry said, smiling back at him. "It was pleasure to meet the both of you," she added to Eragon and his friend as she left the study. The conversation seemed to resume the moment that she left, but she was too immersed in her book to take much care.

--

Sandry lay awake late on night as rain pounded against the roof of the shop, making it hard to sleep. No matter, though. She had her book propped up against the bedpost as she read by candlelight, reading about the elves that lived in the far east.

Glancing up at Angela's werecat as he climbed up onto the bed, glancing towards the book, Sandry said dryly through her mind, _Do you mind? I'm trying to read here. If you want something, then just go ahead and say it. _

_Actually, I'm more interested in what you're reading. Do you think that reading all of those books are going to help with practicing magic? _He shook his head, obviously annoyed with her. _Sandrine, you've got a lot to learn. Here's a hint: if you want to learn, then why don't you just ask Angela to teach you? She does know some magic, after all. _

_I know, I just . . . wanted to do something on my own. _Sandry sighed, knowing that she was being stupid. There was no way that she could learn magic on her own without help. _All right, you useless cat, you're right. Where is she at, anyway? _

_In the shop, with the toad. _

_Of course,_ Sandry sighed as she closed the book, marking her place in it as she pushed Solembum off of her and headed into the shop. Sure enough, Angela was in the shop, writing on a tablet as she held a toad in her free hand. But she looked up the moment Sandry approached her.

She smiled slightly. "Was there something that you wanted, my dear?" she asked. Sandry took a deep breath, feeling just as she had all those years ago when she had asked Angela if she could be her apprentice in healing.

"Angela, ever since I completed my apprenticeship in healing, you've done so much for me. You took me in, even though you had no reason to. You've been so good to me."

"You were only a child," Angela said absently. "Anyone with any sense would've helped a poor child. Of course, not many people have much sense nowadays, so that may contribute, but still . . ."

Sandry smiled slightly. "But now I have to ask you of something else, something I have no right to ask of you." Angela nodded encouragingly. "Would you teach me how to use magic?"

A smile spread across Angela's face as she slowly stood up, walking over to Sandry. Placing her hands on her shoulders, Angela said, "I was wondering when you were going to get the courage to ask. Come along. No time like the present to begin."


	2. Into Farthen Dur

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Two: Into Farthen Dûr

Sandry hurried across the lawn quickly, the book she'd borrowed from Jeod in her hands as she ran. She wished that she had time to finish the book, but Angela had said that morning, without warning, that she was leaving, to go find some answers about the new Dragon Rider that had appeared. Of course, Sandry had explained that Eragon was the new Rider, but she was still insisting on leaving. She liked to be where the action was and that wasn't in Teirm; adventure lay to the west, with the Varden.

_What possessed her to spring this on me without notice?_ Sandry wondered as she was allowed through Jeod's front door by the butler and escorted up to his office.

"Come to borrow another book from me, Sandry?" Jeod asked her the moment she walked in.

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not, sir." Surprise rose into his eyes. "We're leaving town and I wanted to get this back to you before we did so. I don't think we'll be back anytime soon."

"Oh." Jeod nodded as he took the book from her. "Right then. Well, I wish you luck on your journey, Sandry, wherever that may be. Give my best to Angela, now. And I hope that we meet again. There are not many young folk who have the heart to keep learning with all of this," he said, gesturing towards the mounts of books. She smiled.

"Thank you for your kindness, sir," she said as she shook his hand politely. "I truly appreciate what you have done for me. And if we meet again, I shall look forward to it." He smiled back at her as she left the study, leaving the house quickly before Angela left without her.

It had been only a fortnight since Angela had begun teaching her in the arts of magic. So far, her efforts were that of a beginner, but Angela assured her that each practitioner was only as good as their skill and everyone had to begin somewhere. Even the Riders had to start as no more than a student.

Sandry wanted to believe her, but the only area where she'd been most proficient at was scrying. She could usually get an image within a mirror or a bowl of water, even if it wasn't decipherable.

"Angela!" Sandry called the moment she returned to the shop. She hurried through the shop, seeing her teacher in her room, packing some last minute things. "Are we just about ready to leave?"

"Just about," Angela said, giving her a searching look. "Where have you been, lass?"

"Returning a book to Jeod before we left," Sandry answered as she ran to her room and seized her own bag, which contained precious little. A few books, an extra dress if necessary, and her notebook which held ingredients for some ointments and other things that she'd made over the years. "I didn't want him thinking that I took off with it."

Angela nodded absently as she finished packing. "All right, there we are," she said, finishing her packing. She walked over to Solembum and patted him carefully. "Are we ready?"

_Of course we are,_ Solembum said airily. _Is the girl? _

_Naturally,_ Sandry responded as she walked away from her room and joined them. She placed a hand on the werecat's back and felt the odd sensation of fast travelling, seeing the rush of lights speed past her. The next thing that she knew, they were in a three-room suite, with a door that led to the outside.

"Where are we?" she wondered as she stepped away from the werecat and Angela, surveying the room critically. It seemed that the room had been made to Angela's taste. "Are we with the Varden?"

"Yes," Angela said with a wry smile. "I took the time to come here before now to set it up. Your room is through there. I would not advise venturing outside; I would not wish for anyone to find me here and they'll undoubtedly want to search your mind to see if you're trustworthy."

Sandry let out a deep sigh; she had really wanted to see the Varden and fight the Empire, but it looked like that would have to wait. "I guess I'll go unpack, then," she said, defeated.

As she headed into her own room, she frowned slightly as she set the bag on her bed, walking away from it. Maybe she could try this . . . "Rïsa!" she commanded, using her limited skills as a witch to raise her belongings to where she would place them.

She struggled with the spell, not ready to give up as the dress rose through the air, setting itself in a draw at the small desk and the books rose to place themselves on the top of the desk. Sandry gasped as she released the spell, almost collapsing into the chair as she struggled to remember how to breathe. How did Angela do it? she wondered as she heard someone enter the room and looked up.

Angela smiled down at her, approval in her eyes as she placed a hand on her shoulders, handing her a cup of water. "It's a start, Sandry," she told her gently as she gratefully gulped its contents down. Sandry blinked at her words, confused. "It's a very good start."

--

It was almost a month later when Sandry heard voices coming down from the main room as she was working on some ointments and salves for the upcoming battle that she sensed approaching. She had seen it, while scrying in her bathwater. There was a horrible battle moving ever so closer . . . she had seen many people lying injured or dead . . . it had been horrible. Angela had warned her about telling the Varden about it, because the future was always in motion. The vision that she had might never come to pass.

As she heard the voices, Sandry bottled up the last of the ointment and headed out into the main room to find out what was going on. She stopped short when she saw the young man who was there talking with Angela. Her teacher looked around at her as she entered and smiled.

"Oh, Eragon, this is my apprentice, Sandry," she said, sipping her tea as Eragon looked around. "Sandry, this is Eragon."

"Hello," Sandry said, trying very hard to stop the blush that was threatening to travel up her cheeks and will her heart to stop quickening, as it had the moment the moment she'd seen Eragon.

"Pleased to meet you," Eragon said, standing up and bowed to her. She sunk into a deep curtsy, keeping her eyes on the young Rider as he straightened. He was even more handsome up close, she thought. "Sandry . . . that's a pretty name."

This time she couldn't stop the blush from rising into her cheeks. "Thank you," she said, averting her eyes from his in an effort to control herself. If she looked straight into those blue eyes, then she risked losing control of her emotions again.

"Well, Eragon, this has been an enlightening talk, but I'm afraid that you'll have to leave now," Angela said dismissively. "My brew of mandrake root and newt's tongue is about to boil and it needs attending. Do come back when you have the time. And _please_ don't tell anyone that I'm here. I'd hate to have to move again. It would make me very . . . _irritated_. And you don't want to see me irritated!"

"You really don't," Sandry said dryly without thinking. "She can get very scary when she's irritated." Angela shook her head in exasperation at her apprentice while Eragon grinned. "I'll walk you out, if you don't mind."

"No, please," Eragon said with a grin as they headed through the door. Angela didn't stop her from leaving the cave and entering Farthen Dûr for the first time since she arrived. Sandry let out a deep sigh as they left the room where she had lived in for so long. "Haven't you been out here since you two got here?" he asked.

"No, Angela didn't want anybody to know she was here, not to mentioned I would've had to had my head examined and I really don't feel much like letting anybody get into my mind," Sandry explained. "There's some places that people shouldn't be allowed to trespass."

"I get that. Murtagh wouldn't let anybody go through his mind and he's under house arrest right now."

"Who's Murtagh?" Sandry asked.

Eragon sighed. "He's a friend and ally of mine. It's hard to explain, but I think that his intentions are honourable and he's saved my life lots of times." He paused, looking sideways at her. "How long have you been with Angela, anyway?" he asked her.

"Awhile. I think that I was about five or six when my mother was killed by some bandits who wanted some of her cheap jewellery. They killed her and burnt the inn. I managed to find this, though," she said, holding up the locket. "It was my mother's. After she died, I came to Teirm and Angela found me in the streets and took me in. I'm indebted to her."

"What about your father?" Eragon asked her, slowing to a stop. "Wasn't he around for you?"

"I barely remember him," Sandry said, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "He was . . ." She shook her head; the truth was she didn't even remember him. How could she? She'd only been three years old when he left. "He left, went to go find someone who would give him the son he wanted."

Shock and sympathy crossed Eragon's face. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding truly understanding. "Really, I am. If it helps . . . I never knew my parents either."

Sandry looked up at him, startled. "What happened to them?" she wanted to know as she fell into step next to him again. "Did they die?"

"I don't know," Eragon confessed. "My mother left after she gave birth to me and nobody ever heard from her again. And my father . . . well, Mother didn't give any indication as to who he was."

There was a long moment when neither of them spoke and then Sandry said, "Do you know anything about an upcoming battle?"

The question caught Eragon off-guard and he shook his head wildly. "No, there hasn't been any battle that I've been told of." Sandry frowned, but said nothing until his blue eyes caught hers. "Why do you ask? You sound as though you know something."

"It's nothing," Sandry told him. "Angela's been teaching me some magic and I thought I saw a battle approaching when I was scrying earlier. I'm sure I was mistaken, though." She didn't want to worry him.

He didn't look worried, though, he only looked concerned. "I doubt it," he said quietly as he looked around. "Suppose you had better be heading back, if Angela doesn't want to be found."

Sandry nodded, though it was the last thing she actually _wanted_ to do. If anything else, she would prefer just to stay here in his company. But she needed to get back and there were things that he needed to be doing besides talking to the herbalist's apprentice.

"I was glad to have met you, Eragon," she said softly as she turned around to head back to her and Angela's quarters. She dared not look back at him, because she wasn't sure if she would be able to look away again.

"I was glad to meet you, too!" Eragon called after her. She looked back at him and saw the smile on his face. Smiling back, she ducked through the portal that led to her and Angela's quarters and vanished from sight, a shiver travelling up her spine as she thought about the smile that had appeared on his face when he saw her and the feeling the surged through her when she looked into his eyes.


	3. Sandry's Brother

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Three: Sandry's Brother

A young man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes silently packed his belongings into a bag late in the night. Moonlight streamed from his window as he listened carefully, hearing a noise erupt from the room next door, but it was nothing more than his mother turning on her side, still fast asleep. Letting out a relief, Peter resumed his packing, casting a quick glance towards the window to make sure that no one was there. He couldn't be too careful; if anyone found out what he was doing, he'd be hunted down before he could even think twice.

Once he had everything packing, Peter slung the bag onto his shoulder, opening the door carefully, peering out. There was no one in the hallway to see him and he slowly stepped out, walking past his parents' room without remorse. He had no desire to see them one last time. They had been nothing but cold, cruel, and unkind since the day that Father had returned, some thirteen years ago, from the battle that had almost claimed his life.

Lord Cathal was a member of the King's court, a noble who went to war against the Varden seventeen years ago, leaving his newly wedded wife pregnant with Peter, and vanished from his ranks. Lady Lila was left to fear the worst until Cathal returned, nearly four years later, to his wife's side and three-year-old son. And he'd never spoken of what happened to him, except to his brother, Anthony, some years later. But what he didn't know was that Peter had overheard the entire conversation.

And he knew the truth; he knew the secret that his father shielded from his mother and his younger brother Éamonn. Peter knew of the child that his father had impregnated a common woman with, while Lila was still pregnant with him. He knew about his half-sister, Sandry, who was an apprentice to a healer witch in Teirm.

At least, until recently. Peter had kept word about his sister with some men that he had good relations with and they informed him that almost a month ago, his sister and her teacher had vanished from Teirm. The shop was empty, but they didn't appear to leave in a great hurry, because they had taken most of their things with them.

Peter was beside himself with fear about the sister he had never known and had dreamt of one day meeting, fearing for her safety and her very life. The worst thing he could have imagined was that he would never meet her, that she would never know about him. That she would never understand the real reason why he had abandoned her mother.

Until a few days ago, Peter had been down in the gardens of the palace when he saw an image form on the pond, revealed to him but no one else. It showed a battle, far away from here, between the Empire and the Varden. His sister had been there, fighting alongside the Varden, her face determined and calm, accepting death if it came.

Peter then knew where she had gone to; the Varden, who lay within the Beor Mountains. And he knew that his time as the dutiful son of Lord Cathal and Lady Lila had ended. The time had come for him to finally stand up for what he believed in and Peter knew that his beliefs would not be found in the Empire, but with the Varden.

And he knew perfectly well that if he was discovered, then he would be killed before he had a chance to escape. This was the reason why he was leaving in the middle of the night, leaving only a letter behind with his faithful servant Matthew, who would deliver the letter to his parents once he was away. The letter was plain; it told them where he was going and why, that he loved them but he couldn't pretend to be somebody that he wasn't. His sister needed him more than his parents and brother did. And his loyalties lay not with the Empire, but with the Varden.

"Peter."

Nearly jumping out of his skin as someone spoke his name, Peter whirled around to find his younger brother behind him, dark eyes flashing dangerously as Éamonn watched him carefully, sitting calmly on the steps. "Éamonn, what are you doing up?" he asked, barely able to breathe.

"I could ask you the same question," Éamonn responded, his gaze moving towards the bag that Peter had slung across his shoulder. "Don't tell me that you're running away."

"No, I'm not," Peter said quietly. It was the truth; he wasn't running _away_ from something. He was running _to_ something. "Éamonn, go to bed. It's late, you shouldn't be up."

"You're betraying the King," Éamonn spat at him, standing up to glare at his older brother. Peter remained unmoved. "How could you? Peter, you're supposed to be one of his loyalist nobles, one who wouldn't even think twice about turning his back on him! You're my brother, I'm supposed to look up to you! Mother and Father will disown you instantly for this!" If he thought that this was meant to change Peter's mind, he was sorely mistaken.

Peter shook his head. "I don't care, Éamonn," he replied. "That's not going to stop me. Has it ever occurred to you that I might not belong here? That I never did and wished that I was born somewhere else, somewhere where I wouldn't have to be forced to obey a King because of the family I was born into? Éamonn, I've hated it since the day I was born."

Cold fury crossed Éamonn's face and he shook his head, angry with Peter. "I cannot believe that I'm forced to call you my brother," he spat. "If our parents don't disown you, big brother, then I will. It starts now. Either you come to your senses and go up to your room or you never again call yourself my brother. What's your decision?"

Peter sighed. "A true brother wouldn't ask me to make that choice," he responded. Éamonn's eyes narrowed. "Did I ever tell you that we have a sister? Father had a child while he was away at war and abandoned her and her mother. Her name is Sandrine. And she needs my help, Éamonn. Now more than ever."

Éamonn laughed bitterly. "You would choose our father's illegitimate child before me? Big mistake, Peter. Guar—" Before he could finish the yell, someone tackled Éamonn from behind and Peter stared in shock as Éamonn stumbled down the steps before hitting his head, knocking himself unconscious.

Looking around, Peter let out a startled cry when he saw Matthew standing there, looking harshly down at Éamonn. "A true brother never would threaten you," he said quietly as he looked to Peter. "Go, Master Peter, before they find you here. Don't worry, I'll take care of him. He isn't hurt, just unconscious. I'm actually surprised that his thick skull could have been knocked unconscious, though," he added as an afterthought.

Peter made a weak chuckle before looking worriedly at his loyal friend. "How can I thank you for this, Matthew?" His friend only smiled weakly back at him as another thought struck Peter. "Wait—they'll kill you for this! If they find out you attacked Éamonn, then they'll kill you—"

"I'm an old man, Master Peter," Matthew replied with a shrug. "Death holds no fears for me at this age. I stopped fearing it a long time ago. It is you that I must protect, because I have loved you all these years, as a father should love his son." Peter smiled gratefully at his friend. "My wife passed away long ago and our only child with her. But I think that if our son would've survived, then I think he would have turned out to be a lot like you."

"Matthew, I—" Peter shook his head, unable to form words. "You've been a great friend and father figure to me. I'll never forget you."

His friend nodded once. "Hurry, Master Peter," he urged. "Go, quickly!"

Peter didn't think twice as he sprung down the stairs, leaving his brother in his friend's capable hands. Tears sprung in his eyes as he thought about Matthew's upcoming death, but he would be of no help to his sister if he went back to save his friend now. Only certain death awaited him if he went back.

Slipping into the stables, Peter moved quietly into his own horse's stall, patting Cadman on the neck as he nickered quietly. "Easy, boy," he murmured as he saddled him quietly. "It's all right, easy. Just relax." The palomino looked at him with his brown eyes, but stayed calm as Peter unlocked the stall door and led the horse out, keeping a close watch out for any soldiers.

Climbing onto Cadman, Peter closed his eyes once and galloped away, not looking back. At least, not until he was a good distance away, where he could see the castle as only a small dot on the horizon. Only then did he dare turn Cadman around, staring at the place where he had once called home. And as he stared at it, a great sadness overcame him. "Good luck to you, Matthew," he whispered. "For your sake, I hope they spare you. You've been a true and loyal friend. One day, I hope that I can do the same for you."

Not letting any of the tears of remorse fall, Peter shook his head, turning away and riding off into the horizon, towards the Beor Mountains, where he knew his sister waited, however unknowingly.

--

Surprisingly, it didn't take him long to find the Varden, despite what he had been told. He would've thought it would have been harder to find, if they wanted to keep secret. Or maybe it was his connection to his sister that was leading him to them.

Either way, the moment that he managed to climb through the waterfall and resurface on a pool on the other side, he found himself facing three or four spears. Alarmed, he automatically reached for his sword, but one of them warned him, "That will do you no good, stranger. State your name and business."

Deciding it would only hurt him if he argued, Peter said, "My name is Peter. I am here for two purposes: to join the Varden and to find my sister. I'm certain that she is here someplace." Now that he was within the Varden's lair, he could definitely _sense_ a strange force coming from somewhere. If it followed it, he had no doubt that it would lead him straight to his sister.

To his surprise, they all looked at each other in surprise. A bald man hissed dangerously, "Anyone who passes through these gates and wishes to join us must submit to our test."

Test? Peter didn't like the sound of that and he liked even less submitting to be tested by this man. There was something sinister about him and he could've sworn that he'd seen him somewhere before. But if it would get him to his sister in time—

"May I get out of here first?" he asked, looking at the pool that he still stood in. The bald man stared at him, then motioned for the others to move back. Only one of them moved forward and assisted Peter as he climbed out of the pool. "Thank you," he said gratefully before looking at the bald man, not fearing him in the least. "I'm ready."

A menacing smile crossed the man's lips as his eyes narrowed. Almost instantly, Peter felt as though his mind was about to split open. Images spun through his mind, memories that he barely even remembered, from when he was only a child . . .

It was a painful and excruciating experience. There were some things he wished that he could've hidden from him, but unfortunately he had no such power to hide from them.

With a soft gasp, Peter fell to his knees, groaning at the pain as he felt the bald man removing himself from his mind. Blinking up at him, Peter only vaguely recalled him saying, "He is not your enemy. This one truly wants to join the Varden. You should take him to Ajihad."

A dwarf glanced at him sharply as Peter stumbled to his feet, leaning back against the cave wall. "Are you all right to come, lad?"

"But—" Peter wanted to say something, but he could barely stand. Someone pressed a glass of water against his lips and he drank gratefully. Once he had recovered, he said, "My sister. I've got to find my sister."

"It'll have to wait until after you've met our leader Ajihad," the dwarf grunted. "What's your name, lad?" Peter got to his face and managed to walk after him without stumbling. That mind-reading had been more painful than he would've thought.

"Peter," he answered.

"And who is your sister?" The dwarf was looking at him now with interest. "What is her name?"

"Her name is Sandry. Sandrine, actually, and she's a healer." Peter knew some information about his sister due to his contacts. "I can sense her here, was able to track her presence here." The dwarf looked interested as he said that, but a worried look crossed his face.

"I'm afraid I don't know of a Sandry or a Sandrine," he replied. Peter's heart fell. "Don't worry, lad. Perhaps Ajihad knows something that I do not. Fret not, because the bond between siblings is a great bond indeed."

"Thank you," Peter said quietly as he was led through the corridors and straight into the office of the leader of the Varden. And he took one step towards his destiny.


	4. Preparing for Battle

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Four: Preparing for Battle

Sandry was brushing out her brown hair quietly as she heard Angela brewing one of her potions in the next room. She had confessed her vision about the battle and Angela told her that there was probably going to be battles raging all around them very soon; after all, she had seen with Eragon's future great battles raging around him, so now that he was with the Varden, it made sense that battles would be erupting very soon.

Still, that didn't make her vision any easier to stomach. What was the point of seeing the future if it was never unalterable? To see it and not be able to do anything about it . . . that was worse than not being able to see it at all. What if she had seen something unimaginable? Like the death of someone she cared about? What then?

As Sandry pondered this, she straightened suddenly, feeling a presence within the caverns of the Varden. It was a presence that was almost familiar, yet she was certain that she had never felt it before. Leastwise, not while she was awake. When she was asleep, she had felt this presence stretching across distance to her, coming to her in her dreams.

He had never spoken to her there, only smiled at her and watched Sandry carefully while she tried to find him in the mists. But they were kept apart, always kept apart, because he was trapped. Trapped and unable to get to her, until he was free.

But how could he be here? She had always thought that he was just a dream, part of a vision that she longed for. A brother, she thought now. She had always wanted a brother, even though she knew that was the reason why her father had left. Because she was the daughter that he didn't want.

Standing up, Sandry was out the door before she could even realise what was happening. Angela called after her, but she ignored her teacher and kept running, ignoring the startled Varden as she rushed past them, sensing the deep pain that ran through her, feeling the pain of her brother as if it were her own.

She froze as she saw a blond man being led away by one of the dwarves, his face determined and calm, not betraying any emotion. It was him, she realised. She knew him at once, recognising the same determination that ran through her own veins. And she saw straight into his blue eyes, eyes that were in the image of her own.

But he was not being taken a prisoner, she realised now. No, if he were a prisoner, then he would be led by weapons, not a short guide who only bore the axe that was aimed not at him, but held uselessly at his side. Sandry frowned slightly, then brightened. _He had come to join the Varden!_

Wanting to see more of her brother, Sandry stepped forward but was alerted by some dwarves coming from their own caverns. She gasped in surprise at the sight of the battered and injured one supported by his fellow dwarves, hurrying forward.

"I need to see Ajihad," one of them told her. "At once; it's an emergency."

"You'll have to speak with one of them," Sandry told him, pointing towards the Varden. "I'm only a healer."

He brightened at once, realising what she meant. Instantly, he instructed the men to take their injured friend back to the caves, with Sandry accompanying. While they obeyed, he left to go speak with the Varden leader about whatever had happened. Which, whatever had, was serious. Sandry could see that even without the Sight.

Thankful that she had brought her healer's bag along with her, Sandry knelt down beside the dwarf, tending to his injuries. They were severe, but she had seen far worse when Urgal attacked villages nearby and they had come to Teirm for help. The dwarf was luckier than perhaps he realised.

It didn't take long for her to take care of his injuries. She soothed and calmed him when he got agitated and by the time that the other healers had arrived, he was sleeping peacefully, his injures well taken care of.

The head healer took one look at him, then glanced at Sandry carefully, as if trying to place her. "It would've been too late by the time that we got here," he replied. "Thank you, milady. You have saved this dwarf's life."

Sandry smiled respectfully and said, "I had a good teacher." Angela would've beamed if she'd heard that, but she was undoubtedly still in their chambers, no doubt fretting about her.

"Ah," the head healer said, still looking sceptical. They were no doubt going to overlook her presence due to the situation. But Sandry had the feeling that this was the beginning. "Well, let's move him to the infirmary, all right?"

Looking around, Sandry asked, "What's going on? What happened to him, anyway?" She directed the question towards one of the dwarves, who now looked at her with respect in their eyes. Saving one of their own, she realised, must have gained her great respect with them.

"He was attacked, my lady," the dwarf replied, shaking his head with some sadness. "There is an army of Urgals on the way, maybe day's march from here. That is what pursued him." He muttered some words in the dwarf language that Sandry didn't understand, but was able to get the general idea of what he was saying. "We thank you for saving him, my lady."

"Sandry," she offered her name as a token of friendship. "My name is Sandry, daughter of Morgance."

He bowed to her. "Alaric, son of Aílan," he responded with a small smile. "I pray that you remain safe in this battle, Lady Sandry."

"You and your people as well, Alaric," she said softly. They both shared sad smiles as Sandry rose from where she'd sat and headed out from the dwarves' kingdom. It was time to stop running and hiding; it was time to prepare for battle.

--

Sandry wasn't questioned as she stepped through the ranks of men preparing themselves for battle, dressed in a battle dress with chain mail peeking out underneath. This dress was not meant for comfort, but for battle. Her healer's pack was wrapped around her waist in case she needed it and a sword was on her other side.

Resting her hand on the sword, Sandry looked around at the men. Some were fearful, others were determined, and others looked as though they were going to their deaths. And some of them were, she realised. Some of them would not make it back to see their wives or children. For some, this would be their last day of their lives. But they were giving it in return of something greater: peace. And hope that their sacrifices would not be in vain.

Hearing someone call her name, she turned around, wondering who it was that could possibly know her name. A smile blossomed across her face as she saw Eragon heading towards her, looking less like a farm boy and more like a Rider than she'd ever seen him.

"Well, they certainly turned you into a hero," she told him lightly. Eragon chuckled, looking down at himself. "You look handsome. Except . . . hold on," she said, reaching up and straightening his collar. "There you are. Now you're ready to take on an army."

"I don't know about that," Eragon admitted. "But you look beautiful. Fit for battle," he added, surveying her. Sandry blushed scarlet, looking down at herself. "Are you going to be out there?"

Sandry looked at him severely. "I'm not the kind of woman who's going to sit back and let people fight the battle for her, Eragon," she told him. "If there's going to be a battle, then I'm going to in it. Besides," she added. "They may need a healer out there in the battleground."

Eragon nodded once. "Well, if there's anyone who can save them, then it's you," he replied. "I heard about that it was you who saved that dwarf who was attacked earlier."

Staring at him, Sandry shook her head in confusion. "How did you hear about that?" she wanted to know.

"The dwarves know everything," Eragon responded in a resigned voice. Sandry giggled slightly and he grinned. "Well, if you get into trouble, just call me, all right? I'll try and listen for your thoughts."

"I don't know," Sandry admitted. "The only . . . being that I've ever been able to communicate with thoughts is that bloody cat of Angela's."

With a snort, Eragon smirked at her, about to say something else when someone called him over. "All the same," he said as he walked away. "Be careful. Wiol pömnuria ilian," he added as she looked around at him in surprise, her mind buzzing around the words. Although she had been studying the ancient language with Angela, she still wasn't a master of it. In fact, it frustrated her how slowly her training was going compared to Eragon's.

Oh, well, she thought as she joined some of the men who were going to battle. Some of them appeared no older than her. By morning, it may not matter. By morning, she could be dead.

Her thoughts drifted back to her brother, whatever his name was, and wondered what had happened to him. Was he imprisoned, even now in the beginnings of a battle that they could use his help in? She hoped not; she couldn't bear the thought of her brother being a prisoner. Hopefully, they would let him fight.

She still didn't understand how it was possible that she had a brother, when her own mother dead and her father vanished when she was three. Her brother was at the very least the same age as she was, maybe older. But she had seen it with her own eyes, felt his presence within their connection. Perhaps it could be true.

Scanning the crowd quickly, Sandry felt disappointment fill through her as she saw no sign of the golden-haired brother that she had caught a glimpse of earlier. Was he waiting for some other time to reveal himself to her? Or was he afraid of her reaction?

Turning her attention back to the matter at hand, Sandry could've sworn that she heard something coming from within the tunnels.

Suddenly, she wished Angela were here. Angela would not be afraid of what was coming, what would be emerging to attack and/or kill them without mercy or warning. She took her teacher for granted sometimes, she thought. Never again.

Reaching for her sword, Sandry slowly slid it out of its sheath, seeing other soldiers do the same. Holding it lightly in her hand, Sandry let out a deep breath, waiting for the signal. Even if this was the last battle that she ever fought, the last day that she would ever live, at least she would die fighting for something she believed in.

"You all right, lass?" Sandry glanced at the man who spoke. He was watching her carefully, concern in his eyes. "No place for a young girl, this."

"I'm here of my own free will," Sandry replied. "Same as you, same as everyone here. I'm not going to go hide like a coward. It's different for some; they have reasons to go hide, if they be mothers or wives. But I'm neither, you see. And I'm capable of fighting and defending myself. There's no valid reason why I shouldn't fight."

The man chuckled, almost amused by her speech. "Certainly have a mind of your own, don't you?" he remarked.

"Aye," Sandry agreed, returning her attention back to the tunnels. She felt a tremor run through her, but swallowed her fear.

_Let them come,_ she thought, raising her chin defiantly. _Let them come, because we will fight. And they will die. _


	5. The Battle of Farthen Dur

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Five: The Battle of Farthen Dûr

They seemed to come at once, as thought some magic had brought them here by instantly appearing before them. Sandry held her sword steady as she watched the lines of Urgals and Ra'zac emerge on the horizon, all determined to take down the rebels in one, swift stroke. Well, however much they may want it to, numbers did not win a battle.

"No," a quiet voice said from behind her. "But I bet they help." Sandry turned around, a few strands of hair whipping into her face as she stared, wide-eyed, into the face of her brother.

He grinned once, moving into place next to her. Unlike her first sight of him, where he'd been wearing simple clothes, that of a nobleman, he now wore chain mail and armour, a shield on his left arm and a sword held loosely in his right. Sandry couldn't help staring at him.

"I'm Peter," he said quietly. "I'm your—"

"Brother," she finished up for him. He blinked at her, surprised by her correct statement. "I know."

Although he looked like he wanted desperately to ask her how she knew that, Peter held back his question, his identical blue eyes turning towards the mass of Urgals and Ra'zacs forming on the enemy's lines.

"Try not to do something stupid, all right?" he told her with a small smile. "Like getting yourself killed."

She supposed that she was supposed to be upset at him for the way that he phrased the question, but she knew that he only meant what she felt in heart too. Neither one of them wanted to lose the other, not now that they had found one another.

"You either," she told him, giving him a small smile before she turned her attention back to the enemy's ranks. It felt like hours to Sandry, but in reality it was only a matter of seconds as the two armies charged forward and began the battle that would change their destines forever.

Sandry felt as though every time that she managed to cut down on Urgal, several more appeared. Peter managed to stay next to her, slicing down the enemies with an expertise that she didn't expect. He grinned at her as he took down another Urgal.

"Expect that you want a lot of answers, don't you?" he yelled at her over the sounds of battle.

"I really don't think _now_ is the best time!" she shrieked at him, ducking under an enemy's sword and plunging her own into his chest. "This isn't the ideal place for a family reunion!"

"But it might be the _only_ time we've got for explanations!" Peter yelled back. "Don't you want to know who our father is?"

Sandry froze and almost got impaled by a sword had Peter not swung his own sword towards the Urgals. Coming back to her senses, she shouted, "Honestly, what do you expect? That we can—" she grunted as she shoved her sword into a Ra'zac "—come to terms this quickly, decide that our father is complete moronic jerk, then join together and be the best of friends?" She glared at him furiously.

Peter was unscathed by her glare. "It's as good a plan as any!" he replied. "Listen, Sandry, you really want to spend what's likely to be our last night mad and furious with me about something that I've got absolutely no control over, then that's fine with me. I just think that there may be other options, you know? There's plenty of worst ways that we could be getting acquainted with one another," he joked.

"Name one!" she told him, kicking down an Urgal and sending him flying into two of his friends. They tumbled one-by-one down the staircase.

"In Galbatorix's dungeons," he responded. Sandry stared at him, then shook her head.

"Good point," she remarked. "Look out!" She grabbed Peter and yanked them both out of range as arrows came flying out of nowhere. "Is there no end to them?" she wondered out loud as more of the Urgals came around the corner, seeing the brother and sister.

"Doesn't look like it," Peter replied. "Of course, we could always go for the noblest of traditions."

"That being?"

"Running away," he replied. At her incredulous, he grinned. "I'm kidding! Just kidding! Jeez, have you got no sense of humour or something!"

"I've got plenty! I just think that there are times to use and times when you shouldn't. In the middle of a battle that's about to claim all of our lives, that's not exactly the best place to be spitting out humour like that!" Sandry plunged her sword into the Urgal.

"It's better to have humour in the middle of a battle than none at all," Peter replied calmly.

"Oh!" Sandry wasn't sure if she wanted to knock him upside the head or just punch him in the nose. Either one of those options was sounding really good at the moment. Unfortunately, neither one was considerable at the moment as she ducked to avoid another sword. "Okay, we're completely outnumbered here!"

"Yeah, run!" Peter pushed Sandry ahead of him and they ran ahead as Peter yanked snatched up a bow and arrow from one of the dead Varden. Managing to light the tip of the arrow, Peter nocked the arrow and let it release towards the Urgals. As he lit them on fire, they screamed in pain and anguish.

Sandry didn't stop to see what happened to them; both she and Peter ducked down to avoid the ceiling that came crumbling down overhead. She screamed his name as he was hit by one of the pieces and fell to the ground, covering his head.

Fury and rage spun through her and she plunged into the depths of her power, to where she could find her inner strength. "_Blöthr!_" she screamed as the rocks plunged towards them. They froze in midair, hovering above them as she spun them in the opposite direction.

Peter scrambled to his feet, blue eyes wide as he watched her. But not with fear in them, she realised. With admiration and astonishment. "Is there any of ours up there?" she shouted at him. She couldn't see where she was standing if there were.

"No!" he yelled back triumphantly. "Only some slimy assassins and other ugly beasts!"

Sandry couldn't help but chuckle at his description of the Urgals and Ra'zac, but held her concentration as she used all of her might to shove the rocks towards their enemies. "_Fram jierda_," she called as she heard someone let out a roar from behind her. Peter lunged to strike down the enemy and she looked back, losing her concentration at the wrong moment. Instead of moving forward to strike the enemies, it blocked them from moving anywhere near the rest of the cave.

"Well, at least they won't be getting anywhere near us," Peter observed as he plunged his sword into his sister's near-killer. Sandry grinned as she saw more Urgals coming their way. "Great, there's more of them. I was hoping that the rocks would keep them off of us for awhile."

"I definitely think that I've seen enough of them to last me a lifetime," Sandry agreed, thrusting her sword into the Urgal. "Don't you have any better things to do than come here and attack us? _Wiarta_!" she yelled, using the word for water in the ancient language.

Water spun through her hand, diving into the Urgals who approached, forcing them back. By the time that they recovered, both brother and sister had disappeared, taking the back passage to get back to the battle.

"I think we've got them at a run!" Peter yelled as he saw the Urgals and Ra'zac retreating. Sandry let out a laugh, but she couldn't help but feel worried. "Look happy, sister, we won!"

"But they shouldn't have given up so easily!" Sandry protested. "Not unless the Shade was dead!" Panic rose through her and her eyes went wide, fearing for Eragon's safety. "Eragon!"

She raced away from her bewildered brother, hurrying down the steps with Peter right behind her as she searched the battleground for Eragon, praying against all odds that she was wrong.

It didn't take her long to find him. He was with Saphira and dragons, above everything else, weren't easy to hide because they were so big. She found them on the very outskirts of the fortress, both unconscious, though Saphira was faring better than Eragon.

"Oh, gods!" was the first thing that Peter said when he saw them. Sandry ignored him, running to Eragon and squatting down beside him. She snatched open her healer's pack, praying that she would have the strength of will and the ability to save him.

"Go find some help!" she half-screamed at Peter. He didn't waste any time; he took off, leaving Sandry to tend to her patient. She tried to stay calm, but she didn't want to think of the possibility that this might be the one patient that she wouldn't be able to save.

_Don't lose heart, daughter,_ a voice spoke in her mind. Sandry half-froze as the voice spoke, recognising it from a far-away place, when that same voice had told her to run, that she loved her but this was the way it must be.

"Mother?" she whispered.

_Have faith, Sandrine. Do not lose heart that you will lose him the way that I lost your father. Hold him close to you this night, for he is near death. He is a part of you, as we are all a part of each other. _

Sandry swallowed, unable to comprehend what was happening, but realised that there were stronger forces of magic here than could be understand. And after all, love was the most powerful thing in the universe. It was often times understood, but nothing came close to it.

"Eragon!" she shouted, grasping his hand tightly and grasping her hands on his shoulders. "Please hold on, for me. I need you here. You must come back to the land of living, Argetlam," she added, "because there are people here that need you. The battle is over, Eragon, we won. Do not let yourself become a casualty of this war, not here, not ever. Come back to us, because it is not time to go the shadow world just yet. It's not your time. I know it's not."

She opened up an ointment and applied it to his wounds, slowly and carefully. In her frantic fear, she had forgotten the most important thing about being a healer: calmness. That was the most important thing, she could not lose control.

"You've saved us all," Sandry whispered. "You did it, Eragon; you killed the Shade. And now your journey is simply the beginning of a legend. One day, they shall tell fantastic tales of Eragon and his dragon Saphira. Every generation, a legend is born. Some have fallen defending for what is right. Do not follow that glorious tradition. Make your own and be proud of the legacy that you have brought."

Tears sprung to her eyes as she felt him stir ever so slightly, feeling some warmth come back into his body. "Please come back, Eragon," she whispered softly, brushing his blond hair out of his face. "Because I need you."

She bent over him and slowly let her lips touch his, capturing him in a small, quiet, perfect kiss. The moment lasted too short as more healers arrived to help her revive their greatest hope, but that moment changed Sandry forever, as so many had before that one.


	6. Recovery

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Six: Recovery

Sandry stayed with Eragon all through the night as healers worked their magic over him. She did what she could, applying the proper antidotes to him and speaking to him whenever he got agitated, until finally he was safe. It took half the night until he was safe and just lying asleep peacefully. Holding his hand, she laid her head onto her arm, watching him sleep. It didn't matter if she got sleep this night; she wasn't even tired anyway.

Still wearing her battle dress, Sandry had cuts and bruises as a memoir of the battle, but had flat out refused for the healers to tend them. She had enough ointments if she wanted to treat them, but they were better used for someone who actually needed them. Apart from a deep wound that was scarred on her left temple to her jaw, she bore no permanent damage from the battle. She'd been remarkably lucky.

Looking up as her brother entered, Sandry managed a weak smile towards him as he walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as he squatted down next to her. "You should go and get some rest," he told her quietly. "Everybody's tired, Sandry, nobody would be upset with you if went and got some sleep."

Sandry shook her head. "I can't leave him," she said quietly, gesturing towards Eragon. "Besides, he's getting enough sleep for the both of us." She looked away from Peter's knowing look. "I'm fine, Peter."

"If you say so," Peter said dryly. "But you know, you probably should get some rest or at the very least, go get cleaned up." He gave her a lopsided grin. "If the Rider woke up now and saw you like this, you'd probably scare him half to death."

Sandry scowled at his teasing, but had to admit she probably looked a sight. "That's cruel, brother," she grumbled. Peter grinned, knowing that he had her, and patted her shoulder.

"Go on, sister," he said lightly, "I'll stay with him for awhile and I'll come and get you the second he wakes up." She hesitated. "Go," he said with a laugh. "I promise you, I'll come get you."

With a small smile, Sandry relented, standing up. Kissing her brother on the cheek, Sandry hugged him for a moment. "The second he wakes up?" she clarified and he nodded, looking amused. "All right, fine. I'll be back, Eragon," she told the sleeping Rider.

Heading out of the infirmary, Sandry was shocked at the amount of damage that the battle had done to the fortress. She hadn't realised then that the battle was destroying people's homes, their very livelihood. The people who passed her gave her a small nod of greeting before continuing on with their work on repairing the damage.

Walking to her chambers, Sandry retrieved the green gown that she'd worn when she came here before she headed to the bathing area. Stripping off the slimy, sticky battle dress, Sandry climbed into the pool, letting out a deep sigh of relief as she scrubbed off the aftermath of battle. With a small sigh, Sandry finished bathing and laid there for a moment, her light brown hair drifting around her in the water.

After a long moment, she climbed out of the bath and headed into the lighted room, drying herself off. When she was dry, she pulled the green garment over her head, tying it in the back as she finished. Pulling some of her into the back, she braided it with a piece of ribbon, letting the small braid fall in the middle while the rest of her hair hung free.

Picking up her battle dress, Sandry folded it delicately, returning it to her chambers, hanging it carefully in the closet with a small sigh. Sinking down onto the bed, she stared at the room around her, falling backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

It had been a long past few days, Sandry mused. The past few days seemed so scrambled, as though they had happened to someone else. Just two days ago, she was just Angela's apprentice and an expert healer. Now, she was a member of the Varden, a healer on hand, and she had a brother. That was the most remarkable thing of all. If someone had told her two days ago that she had a brother who would come looking for her, she would've told them that they were crazy.

Sandry sighed as she sat up, intending to go back to the infirmary when she caught sight of someone in the mirror. With a gasp, she whirled around, shocked when she saw the boy standing behind her, a crossbow in his hand as he smirked at her.

He was taller than her, despite that he was at least two years younger than she was, probably no more than fourteen. He had dark, tamed hair that framed a cold, expressionless face that darkened as he looked at her. His eyes, too, were dark. Like an eternal winter had been cast into those eyes with no hope of spring returning.

"So, you're the reason why Peter was corrupted so irreversibly," he remarked. "So sorry, it's nothing personal." He laughed, a twisted look crossing his face when he did so. "Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it's personal. It's too bad, sister. We could've used you, had you not been allies with the Rider and turned Peter to your side." He fired the arrow at her and she instantly reacted.

"_Brisingr!_" Sandry yelled and a burst of flame spun from her, spinning through the boy as he stood. The moment that the spell hit, the boy vanished from sight. Not ran, but simply disappeared.

For a moment, Sandry sat there, confused, but then she realised what had happened. "Just a vision," she whispered. She had to learn to distinguish visions from reality; sometimes they came unbidden, pushing on the edges of their reality, to show those who could see what may be. "It was just a vision," she repeated more firmly. "But who was he?"

There was only one way to find out; she had to ask Peter. Only he would know who the mysterious boy was, because the boy had spoken of him. Not only that, but he had called her 'sister'. Did she have another brother, one that Peter knew, had grown up with? Her heart sank at the very thought of it; she and Peter had lost so many years without each other, growing up apart. Could they have the relationship that they could have had, if they'd grown up with each other? Somehow, she doubted it, but that didn't mean that they couldn't have a special relationship, that of siblings and friends.

But for the time being, she didn't need to worry about the mysterious boy. Her first priority at the moment was Eragon. With a small sigh, Sandry picked up her sword that lay on the bed, attaching it to her side as she left her chambers, returning to the infirmary.

Peter glanced up at her the moment that she returned to the room, a small smile crossing his lips as he saw her. "Now, that is much better," he remarked as he saw her. She shook her head, half-amused by him and half-exasperated. "He's the same." Standing up, Peter let Sandry take his place next to Eragon and she sat down. "I should probably go and help out, since I promised Ajihad that I would."

"You don't have to go," Sandry told him. She didn't want him to go, really, even though she knew he had responsibilities to the Varden now. So did she. They were both a part of the Varden. There was nothing that she could do, unless they needed a healer, but there was loads of work to do outside for Peter.

"I know that," Peter said lightly with a small smile at her. "If you need me, I'll be right back here in a second." They both shared a small smile at each other; for some odd, unknown reason, the both of them could sense the other. She could sense Peter's emotions and felt his pain as if it were her own. "I'll see you later."

Sandry sighed as she sat silently at Eragon's beside. His face was calm as he slept on, his blonde hair hanging into his face. She reached out and brushed it out of his eyes, staring down into his closed eyes. "When are you going to come back to me?" she whispered softly. "Eragon, when are you going to open your eyes?"

She sighed as she leaned back against the chair, her eyes glued to his face as she waited for a response. When none came, Sandry bit her lip, trying not to cry as she looked away towards the door, wishing that somebody was here to comfort her, to tell her that everything was all right. Without warning, Sandry felt someone touch her fingers.

Before she could even turn her head, she heard a soft moan coming from the bed. Her head snapped towards the young Rider lying upon it and saw his blue eyes opening slightly, weak though they were. "Sa—Sandry?" he mumbled, struggling to pull her into view.

"It's me," Sandry said, almost laughing with pure joy. She grasped his hand tightly, not wanting to hurt him, but unable to contain the jubilation that she was emitting inside. "Thank the gods, you're all right! I was so worried!"

"Don't worry about me," Eragon said with a small, weak smile. "What about you? Are you all right?"

"Nothing that won't heal," Sandry said indifferently, half-annoyed with him trying to focus on her instead of worrying about himself. "Eragon . . . are you all right? Seriously?" she added more firmly.

He made a small smile up at her. "I think so," he said softly. "Are Saphira and Arya all right? What happened?"

"I found you with Saphira after the battle was over," Sandry explained hastily. "You needed healing and I . . ." She didn't know how to proceed, so she finished lamely, "Anyway, Saphira's fine. She's been up in the dragonhold worrying about you ever since. Solenbum has been going up there and giving her the updates. She wanted to come herself, but the infirmary's too small for a dragon. As for Arya, she's fine."

"Thank the gods," Eragon said, relieved as he let out a slow breath. "That's the worst thing about battles; people getting hurt." Sandry nodded once as she looked into his eyes. His blue eyes were regaining strength as he laid back. But he was studying her carefully. "Sandry, when I was unconscious, after the battle was over . . ." he began.

At that same moment, Arya and a man that she didn't know appeared and instantly began talking to him. Sandry stood up, backing away so that they could talk to Eragon without interruption. But before she could move, Eragon's hand slipped into hers.

"Don't," he said softly. Sandry glanced back at him, startled, and saw the determined look on his face. "You belong here, Sandry. Come on, sit back down, all of us can talk."

Arya looked towards her curiously and smiled pleasantly. "You're the healer girl that saved that dwarf before the battle started," she said in realisation. Sandry turned red, but nodded. "We owe you our thanks. The healers told me that were it not for you, the dwarf would not have survived. You must be quite a healer."

"Thank you," Sandry said, managing a weak smile. "But it's all thanks to my teacher."

"And don't you forget it," Angela remarked as she entered the room. Sandry looked around at her teacher and grinned. "I'm just here to check on the patient. You're under orders not to move from this bed until you have my say-so, Eragon," she ordered him. "If I found out that you got out . . ." She left the threat hanging.

Eragon shook his head as Angela inspected his bandages and made sure that he was healing properly before she left. "Has she always been like that?" he wanted to know, glancing at Sandry.

"Yes," Arya and Sandry both said at the exact same time, causing both men to start laughing.

"Anyway," Eragon said once he'd recovered, "Sandry, this is Murtagh." He gestured towards the mysterious man, who took her hand and kissed it. Sandry was torn between embarrassment and exasperation. His dark eyes were focused on her and she caught a small tinge of his cheeks as she smiled towards him, but looked back towards Eragon. "So, what happened after I lost consciousness?"

As all three of them started relaying the events of the battle to the Rider, Sandry felt happier than she'd been in days. For the first time in her life, she had friends, family, and love, something that she'd waited her entire life for. For that moment, at least, things were complete.


	7. Sibling Bonding

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Seven: Sibling Bonding

After Eragon was safely awake, Sandry finally submitted to Angela's pleas and went to go help out in the infirmary. Most of the patients there weren't in need of great help and they didn't need any other help than a simple ointment or potion, but it helped to have something to do. It distracted her from thinking about what had happened out there on the battlefield. She couldn't stop thinking about how close she'd come to losing Eragon.

When she'd been there for about twenty-four hours—and going forty-two without any sleep—one of the healers finally noticed her exhaustion and sent her away. "A tired healer is only going to do more damage than good, Lady Sandry," he told her. "I think even Angela will agree with me on that."

"She hasn't had any sleep?" Angela looked concernedly at her apprentice as she heard that. "Good gods, child, you're going to make yourself sick! Off with you! And don't go anywhere near Eragon, you hear me?" she added as Sandry left the infirmary. "I want you to go get some sleep."

"I'm not a child," Sandry grumbled, barely able to stifle a yawn as she headed out of the room and through the caverns that she had gone back and forth between in the two days since the battle.

They had managed to repair a lot of damage since then. Peter had been helping out a lot, between coming and visiting Sandry and helping her out with what he could.

"What are you doing out here?" Peter asked, appearing next to her. "You look exhausted," he added, giving her a quick grin as he glanced at her. "Sooner or later, they're going to notice you're not getting any sleep and then you're going to—"

"Relax, big brother," Sandry said with a yawn. "Angela finally noticed that I'd been up for two days and sent me to go to bed. Like I'm going to get any sleep with all of this racket going on."

Peter grinned slightly. "Suppose not, but you might as well try," he pointed out. "Besides, you look like you're about to fall asleep right here and now. You want me to make sure you make it to your quarters all right?" he asked, looking worried.

"Thank you," Sandry said in relief, laying her head onto her brother's shoulder. He shook his head and yelled something to one of the Varden, who waved back in reply. Then he scooped her up and carried her through the corridors until they reached her and Angela's chambers.

Pushing his way through the portal, Peter carried her into her room and laid her gently onto the bed, pulling the blankets over her. "Now, get some sleep," he told her.

"All right," Sandry mumbled, but then she looked up at him. "Peter?" He looked back at her. "Do we have a brother?"

Peter was taken aback by the question and he sat down next to her. "Why do you ask that?" he asked. She glanced at him. "All right, all right, yes, we have a younger brother. His name is Éamonn and he's fourteen. And a royal pain in the neck," he added with a sigh. "He tried to turn me into Galbatorix when I was leaving." He looked at her. "Now, why do you ask?"

"I had a vision," Sandry admitted, laying her head against the pillows as she turned her head onto her side. "Yesterday, when I left to go clean up. He was there and . . . he tried to kill me, Peter. It was only when he faded away that I realised it was just a vision." She sighed as she looked up at her brother. "It felt so real."

Her brother was looking worried as he listened to this. "Well, I don't know much about magic, Sandry," he said after a long moment, running his fingers through his blond hair, "but I do know Éamonn and I know he's not going to best pleased that I managed to get away. Not only that, but that I willingly assisted in the Varden's victory, alongside our illegitimate half-sister and the Rider."

"You think it'll come true?"

"No," Peter said at once. "Because I won't let it. I promise you, sister, that I'll protect you. Besides," he added with a teasing grin, "do you really think with the Rider around, anybody can hurt you? With the two of us watching over you, nobody is gonna be able to touch you."

Sandry laughed as she sat up and hugged her brother. He held her tightly and for a moment, it felt like neither one of them wanted to let go, relishing in the sibling bonding. "Oh, gods," Peter whispered. "Do you know how long I've waited to hold you . . . and knowing that you didn't have anybody to hug you?"

"Thank you for coming here," Sandry whispered. "I don't know what possessed you to give up everything you had and come here, but I'm glad you did." She smiled at him.

"Because my little sister needed me," Peter told her simply. She smiled even more broadly and he grinned. "And I wanted to fight for what I believed in. Back home, there wasn't any reason for me to stay. My parents barely even noticed me half the time and Éamonn . . . well, let's just say that he was born into the right family. The only way that I ever stayed sane was when I received news that you were safe and happy."

"Why didn't you ever come see me?" Sandry wanted to know. "If you knew where I was, Peter, then . . . why stay away?"

Peter was silent for a long moment. "Because I knew Father would try and see if you were any use to him if he knew where you were. I didn't want you to be dragged into that world. That would've been too horrible to live through. I wanted you to be safe." He cleared his throat. "Now, go to sleep," he said in a stern voice. "I mean it, young lady."

"Young lady and child," Sandry sighed. "I can't decide which term I like better." Peter grinned and kissed her forehead as he stood up.

"I'll be back later," he said as he walked out of the room. Sandry watched him go and turned over on her side, closing her eyes. She was asleep within minutes and drifting off to a world where dreams take place.

--

She must've slept for a long time, because when she woke up, it was near daybreak and it had been around midday when she'd gone to sleep. Sandry groaned slightly, rolling on her side as she pushed herself up off of the bed, making it quickly as she brushed out her hair and straightening her green gown before she headed into the main room.

Sandry froze when she saw the man that was sitting there, waiting patiently in one of the chairs.

"It's about time that you got up," he told her with a smirk. "You've been sleeping for thirty-six bloody hours." She frowned slightly; had it really been that long? she wondered. She must've been even more tired than she had thought. Never again would she stay up that long, unless it was important.

"It's Murtagh, isn't it?" she asked, frowning at him. He nodded as he stood up. "How did you get in here? Nobody's supposed to find their way into here." Not since Angela magicked it, she added silently.

"Eragon told me how to find you here," Murtagh said with a shrug. "He's doing better, by the way. And he asked me to tell you that he'd like you to stop by when you get a chance. He wants to talk to you."

"I was going to head there now," Sandry said, walking over to the fire and picking up her cloak where she'd left it, hanging to dry. Peter must've taken off her sword and laid it there as well, she realised as she picked it up and reattached it to her belt.

Murtagh watched her before reaching out. "May I?" he asked. She hesitated, but handed over the sword. He inspected the blade curiously. "This is a good sword," he commented before handing it back to her. "Where did a beautiful and gentle lady acquire such a weapon?"

"It was a gift," Sandry responded. That was all she was going to say on the subject.

"From whom?"

"None of your business," she responded as she seized her cloak, clasping it on the front. "Now, I have to go see Eragon and nobody supposed to be here when Angela and I are not." She hoped that he would understand that she was—however discreetly—asking him to leave.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any intention of leaving the quarters anytime soon, because he simply shrugged and sat back down. "Well, don't mind me, then, off you go," he said with a grin. "I'll make sure that nobody comes in here."

Sandry stared at him; what did he want, anyway? "By nobody, I hope you include yourself in that number," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "Angela isn't going to be happy to find out somebody was in here alone."

"Who says that she has to find out?" Murtagh asked with a grin towards her. Sandry placed her hand on the hilt of her sword and he sighed, standing up. "All right, all right, I'm leaving." He grabbed his own sword and headed out of the portal. "By your leave, Lady Sandry."

Relieved that he was leaving, Sandry turned around to find him standing in the doorway. "By the way," he added, "what exactly is going on with you and the Rider?"

"What are you talking about?" she wanted to know, nonplussed as she stared at him.

"I mean, are you involved with him?" he asked more seriously now. "Is he courting you?" There was something in his eyes as he said that, though Sandry couldn't detect exactly what.

"Well, um . . . I don't know," Sandry admitted, a hot blush trailing up her cheeks. "It's been a long couple of days and he's been healing, we haven't exactly had time to talk about things . . . and it's still none of your business," she added quickly. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"I make it a point to know things, Lady Sandry," he answered quickly, "in case it proves useful someday."

Something about the way that he said that made chills go up Sandry's spine and she definitely did not like the way that Murtagh was looking at her. It looked all too much like the men back in Teirm who wanted nothing more than a trophy wife. Just a beautiful woman for the scenery to stand in the background and look pretty. Suddenly, she wished that her brother was here with her.

As if he were called by her thoughts, Peter appeared through the portal, looking between Sandry and Murtagh curiously. "What's going on here?" he asked, looking towards Murtagh, a dangerous look on his face. "I was just coming to wake you, sister."

"Sister?" Murtagh echoed. "You're her brother?" He was looking at Peter before glancing back at Sandry. "Right, I'll leave you to it, then."

The moment that he was gone, Peter looked towards Sandry worriedly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right? He didn't hurt you any, did he?" Peter asked.

"No, but I didn't like him being here," Sandry admitted, shivering slightly. "I didn't like it at all." Peter looked concerned as he glanced back to where Murtagh had vanished.

"Do you know who that is?" he asked sharply. Sandry glanced at her brother as she sat down.

"Murtagh," she answered with a shrug, "he's a friend of Eragon's. I don't know much else about him, though . . ."

"He is the son of Morzan," Peter said with distaste in his voice. Sandry looked at him sharply. "The Rider who betrayed the others and joined the king, slaying his own kind."

"His son?" Sandry breathed, hardly daring to believe it. "But . . . but surely he must be on our side, Peter, otherwise Ajihad would have put him under house arrest or something . . ." She stopped, remembering what Eragon had told her. "But why is he here? Whose side is he on?"

"I don't know," Peter said softly. "But I can tell you this: Murtagh was taken in by the king after his parents were murdered. I've met him a few times and he's dangerous enough without magic." Sandry said nothing. "Look, we don't have to worry about this right now. What's coming will come—"

"And we shall meet it when it does," Sandry finished up for him. She stood up. "I wanted to go see Eragon, anyway. Have you seen him yet?"

"Yeah, I checked on him after I left you here," Peter answered. He had met Eragon, not so long after he'd woken up, and Sandry introduced. Eragon, unsurprisingly, was shocked at learning she had a brother and heard Peter's story about what their father had done. But after talking with Peter, the Rider had genuinely trusted him. The fact that Sandry trusted him so completely might have helped with that, however. "He was asking for you." Peter stood up. "Come on, sister, I'll walk you there, but then I have to get back."

"They're working you too hard," Sandry told him severely. Peter grinned, but shrugged. "Promise me you'll get some sleep later?"

"Look who's talking," Peter teased, but he relented. "I promise. And thank you for caring. You're probably the only family member that actually cared about me," he added quietly.

Sandry wrapped her arms around him as they walked together and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You're my brother, Peter," she replied simply. "How could I do anything else?"


	8. A Romance Blooms

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Eight: A Romance Blooms

Sandry stepped through the infirmary, immediately spotting Eragon lying on the bed, his eyes closed. Thinking that he was asleep, she turned around, about to leave. She didn't want to wake him up; whatever he wanted to talk to her about could wait until after he got some sleep. As she was about to step through the door, she heard someone say her name and turned around, looking towards the Rider on the bed who was stirring, blinking his eyes at her.

"I thought you were asleep," she said, biting her lip as she walked back into the room. "I was going to come back later." Eragon grinned.

"Just resting my eyes," he corrected as she walked over to him, taking the vacant seat next to him. "Murtagh found you, then. Sorry I told him about the portal."

"Don't worry about it," Sandry told him, though she wasn't entirely comfortable with Murtagh knowing how to find her. She didn't like the way that his dark eyes looked at her. "Just don't tell Angela; she'll have a convulsion." Both of them laughed at this and Sandry looked down at her hands. "So, um, before Arya and Murtagh walked in yesterday . . . or I guess two days ago," she corrected herself, "what was it that you wanted to ask me?"

Eragon paused, his blue eyes meeting hers and she felt a shiver travel down her spine. "Listen, after the battle," he said softly, "I want to know what happened while I was unconscious."

Sandry went still, memories travelling back as she stared at him, not sure exactly what to tell him. "Uh . . . what do you mean?" she asked him. "You were unconscious for awhile." She was struggling to come up with something as he smiled at her.

"I mean, while you were there, down with Saphira," he answered. Sandry said nothing. "It wasn't a dream, was it?" She looked up at him. "It was real. You called me back. Sandry . . . I heard your voice calling to me through the darkness, leading me back, telling me that I was still needed here and it wasn't my time to go just yet." He looked at her. "That really happened, didn't it?"

Sandry looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer and nodded. "Yes, that really happened," she said awkwardly. "I knew something happened after Galbatorix's army started falling back. Figured that the Shade was dead and I was worried something happened to you."

"You weren't wrong." She glanced towards him and Eragon grinned at her. "I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing, Eragon," she told him softly. "I just helped keep you alive until the other healers came. It's them that deserve your gratitude, not me."

"I could have very well have been dead by the time that they got there," Eragon pointed out. "Sandry, you saved my life."

"We're still even," she said stubbornly. Eragon only shook his head at her, amused and exasperated.

"And the kiss?" he asked. Sandry felt the blood drain from her face as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers. Something must have shown on her face, because he grinned and said, "That wasn't a dream either?"

Sandry tried her best to pull an innocent act, though this attempt was almost futile by this point. "I—I really don't know what you're talking about," she told him. He nodded, feigning seriousness as he folded his arms across his chest to look at her.

"Well, maybe I was wrong," he said dryly. "Maybe it was just a dream." She nodded in agreement, standing up to leave in an attempt to preserve some of her dignity. But before she could move, Eragon grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto the bed, pulling her on top of him. Sandry gasped in surprise, staring up at him, wondering at how right this felt. "But it was a very good dream," he added with a smile.

"Eragon . . ." Sandry protested softly as she lay there, staring up into his blue eyes. Her heart was beating fast as he drew her closer to him and her eyelids fluttered closed as she felt his lips touch hers.

It was just as wonderful as it had been before, but entirely different. Sandry felt as though fireworks had exploded inside of her, showering with their magnificence and brilliance. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter at that moment. It didn't matter that they were at war, that anything could happen to either of them, or that Galbatorix might use her as bait to lure Eragon into a trap. She didn't care about any of that at the moment; all that mattered was being with Eragon and their perfect, wonderful kiss.

Hearing the door open, Sandry pulled away from Eragon and he leaned back against the bed, an embarrassed look crossing both of their faces as Angela smirked at them from the doorway. "Ah, to be young and in love," she mused, walking away from them. "Carry on, then." She closed the door behind her and they looked at each other before they started laughing.

"People choose the worst time to walk into a room, you know that?" Sandry said dryly as she pushed some of her brown hair out of her face, smiling at Eragon. "Especially Angela. She has impeccable timing for coming into places right when I don't want her to."

"She has a gift," Eragon acknowledged and the two of them grinned at each other as Eragon pulled her down against him. Sandry shifted her weight slightly, looking up at him.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" she asked and he shook his head.

"No possible way that you could do that," he told her softly as he wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her forehead as she lay her head down onto his shoulder. Judging from the expression he wore, Eragon didn't seem to mind this at all.

"Eragon?" she asked softly. He looked at her. "What was that you said right before the battle? Wiol pömnuria ilian?" she added, remembering the words he'd spoken to her.

"I thought you understood the ancient language," Eragon teased her, an amused look crossing his mouth.

Sandry scowled at him. "I understood some of it, mister, but I'm sorry if my witch training is not going as easily as yours is," she informed him, pulling away from him in annoyance.

Eragon laughed, pulling her against him again. "I'm sorry," he said through his laughter. "Really, I am."

"It might be easier to believe if you were not laughing about it, Shadeslayer," Sandry told him, shaking her head in exasperation. This only made him laugh harder.

Once he had recovered, Eragon looked at her straight into the eyes. "Wiol pömnuria ilian," he said finally, "means 'for my happiness.'" Sandry's mouth actually dropped open when she heard him say that, unable to believe what she was hearing. "It would have been my greatest unhappiness if something had happened to you that day."

Sandry sat up so that she could turn around and look at him properly. "So," she said conversationally, "what happens now?"

--

The news that Eragon Shadeslayer was courting the young healer girl Sandry of Teirm spread through Farthen Dûr like a wildfire. It seemed that wherever that she went, there was someone there to wish her luck and congratulate her on having such a fine man for her suitor. Sandry was slightly embarrassed by all of the attention, but Angela assured her that people would find something else to talk about with time.

Peter, of course, teased her mercilessly about it, though she supposed it was his duty as an older brother. She was just glad that he hadn't given Eragon the third degree about his relationship with his sister. He was actually kind of happy for her, though a little sad as well.

She knew how he felt. It seemed as though their entire childhood had been taken away from them—or at least the childhood that could have been, if they had grown up with one another. They would be forever haunted by the thought of what could have been if they had.

Still, there wasn't much time for romance with all that they had to do with the Varden. Sandry helped out the healers with Angela while attuning to her magical skills and swordsman's skills. She had no desire to let her skills go unattended when there was a chance that they may save her life someday. In fact, they _had_ saved her life. If she hadn't been as skilled as she was with a sword, then she might very well have been killed in that battle, even if she had run and hidden like some said she should've.

Usually it was Peter who practiced with her, though Eragon sometimes joined her. He seemed to realise her desire to have a solid relationship with her brother, however, and usually left the siblings alone during that time. However, there was still much left to be done after the battle. There were still many Urgals and Ra'zac who had remained within the caves, hoping to find something or someone who would be useful to the King.

Sandry was in the infirmary, treating to a young human who had been severely injured by one of the Urgals. His body was broken and his spirit weak, but worst of all, they had been unable to repair the damage done to his left arm and the healers finally were forced to cut the arm, much to his dismay when he woke to see what had happened.

"Can't do nothing, now," he spat at Sandry, who remained unmoved by his words. "Not worth the time for you to be helping . . . just finish it, healer girl! Finish it, I'm of no use to anyone now."

"Stop that talk," Sandry told him calmly as she gently applied the ointment needed to his arm to sooth the pain. He let out a soft hiss and his face relaxed as he leaned back, letting her talk. "You have great things left to do in this life. There is so much left for you than for you to just be a casualty of war. Perhaps as part of the Varden, your time is done. And you have done your fair share and paid a great price for your courage, young warrior. But you can still live," she told him. "You can love a woman and father a child. There is much to be said about laughter and singing and telling tales around a fire. And you can teach your son to grow up into a warrior like his father and watch him grow. He would be proud to be the son of such a man. You will survive and you can live on, because there is still much for you to do. Now, drink," she ordered as she held the potion to his lips. The man scowled at her, but drank the liquid. "There you are." She rose as she saw Eragon enter the room. "I'll be back in a moment," she told him as she walked over to the Rider, kissing him in greeting. "You're not supposed to be here."

"What are they going to do, throw me out?" he pointed out. "Besides, I came here to make sure you were all right."

"Of course I'm all right, why wouldn't I be?" she asked, suddenly noticing that he was weary from battle and there was a certain exhaustion in his eyes, as well as uneasiness. "Eragon, what's happened?"

"There were some Urgals down in the tunnels," he started and she nodded, already knowing this. "They attacked. We managed to stop them, but Murtagh and the Twins were captured. Maybe killed," he added as Sandry clasped her hand to her mouth.

Although she didn't like the Twins at all and she wasn't even very fond of Murtagh, she didn't want any of them to die. "I'm sorry," she said, lowering her hand from her mouth. "I know how much you cared about him."

He wrapped his arms around her, needing to hold her for comfort and relaxation. "That's not all," he said quietly.

"What else could have happened?" Sandry asked. Worry and fear came through her. "Not Peter?"

He shook his head. "No, he's fine. Down helping out some of the Varden. It's something else." Eragon's blue eyes met hers and apprehension surged through her as he spoke. "Ajihad is dead."


	9. Sword Duelling

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Nine: Sword Duelling

The death of their leader had struck a hard blow for the Varden, although the fact that they still had their Rider made hope remain in their hearts. Sandry hadn't actually met the man who had led the rebels, though she had seen him pass once or twice. He'd obviously heard about her, because he had nodded and smiled to her, but hadn't stopped to talk. Still, it was a hard time after the news of his death came to all of them, even more with the deaths of Murtagh and the Twins.

Sandry was with Eragon and Saphira when he had been summoned before the Council of Elders, talking with them. Saphira had genuinely liked her and talked to her whenever she came. She didn't disapprove of Sandry's relationship with her Rider; in fact, she encouraged it, if nothing else. When Sandry asked her why, Saphira had responded that since he had met her, Eragon had grown up. In some ways, a lot of ways, she was responsible for that. She had helped turn a boy into a man.

_You have helped him become the hero that he is now,_ Saphira told her simply. Sandry wasn't sure if that was true, but she didn't want to argue with the dragon. For once reason, because dragons were known to be stubborn creatures and for another, she didn't want to argue with someone who was as connected to Eragon as she was.

When they were eating the midday meal when a young boy appeared, pale faced as he regarded Saphira, explaining to Eragon that he was to take him to the Council of Elders. Sandry, pretty sure that she knew the reason for why they wanted to speak to him, motioned for Eragon and Saphira to go with the boy. "Go," she told him, kissing him on the cheek. "It's almost time for Peter and my training session anyway."

"All right," Eragon sighed, resigned, but he insisted on giving her a proper kiss before he followed the boy, Saphira following closely behind. "I'll see you later at dinner, all right?" She nodded as they left with the boy, leaving her alone in the dragon hold.

Suppressing a sigh as she left, taking her time as she made her way to the lower levels of Farthen Dûr, Sandry wished not for the first time that she and Eragon were just two ordinary people. Because his being a Rider was such an important job to the Varden, they weren't able to spend as much time with each other as either of them wanted.

Walking into the training field, Sandry spotted her brother almost immediately, talking with one of the dwarves that were standing there, overseeing the practices.

Both of them stopped talking as Sandry approached, pulling her brown hair into a quick bun to keep it out of the way while they were practicing. "Good afternoon, sir," she said politely as she curtsied to the dwarf. He, however, bowed to her.

"It is more fitting that I should bow down before you, Lady Sandry," he said simply. "You have saved one of my own and in that simple act, you have gained a great respect with my people. Should you ever need of it, you and your family would remain safe with us."

"Um . . . thank you," Sandry said, not knowing what else to say. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts as she straightened, looking at the dwarf directly. "I thank you for your generosity, but I truly hope that I will never have need for protection."

"As long as this war goes on, I think you'll be glad that you have such allies, sister," Peter observed dryly. The dwarf smiled and bowed to them as he left the siblings alone. When he was out of hearing range, he added more seriously, "Especially so long as you are involved with one of the most powerful people in the Varden."

Sandry sighed. "Well, I said that I 'hoped,' not that I expected that I wouldn't need it. Besides, why should the people that I'm involved with affect how much danger I'm in?"

Peter stood up, pulling out his sword and instructing Sandry to do the same. As he moved in for an attack, he said, "First rule of combat, know your enemy." Sandry blocked the attack. "Second rule, know their style. Third, know their heart."

"What?"

"Only the most dangerous and bloodthirsty enemies ever use number three," he told her. "Galbatorix is one of them. If Eragon ever reaches a point where he'll _need_ to use number three, then you could be placed in great danger. Right now, with the Varden, you're protected and not many outside of it are aware of your relationship with him. So he's focusing on Eragon's cousin."

Sandry had heard about Roran from Eragon; they seemed more like brothers than actual cousins, but that was more likely because Eragon had been raised by his uncle than his parents.

"But think for a moment if Galbatorix captured you, knowing of your relationship with him," Peter continued as they duelled. A few of the fencers had stopped to watch the siblings. "What if he decided that you would be an easier target and sought to capture you? It might be easier to capture you than it would be the Rider."

In annoyance, Sandry blocked the next attack and pushed him violently away from her. "I can't believe that you just said that I would be easy to capture," she snapped.

"_Easier_," Peter corrected, "than Eragon. I didn't say that you would be easy to capture. He'd know you're an asset, so he'd keep you alive long enough for Eragon to come running to your rescue." Sandry stopped for a minute, realising the reality of the situation. "Look, I'm just trying to show you that you need to be careful. _Especially_ if Éamonn does come after you. That little brother of ours is clever. Vile, but clever," he added more quietly. "So just promise me that you'll be careful."

"When am I ever anything but?" Sandry asked him softly. He sighed, raising his sword threateningly. "I promise."

"Good," Peter said lightly as he swung it through the air. "So where were we, anyway?"

"Right about here," Sandry responded as she spun around to block his next attack. He turned around to meet her sword and just barely managed to stop it as he whirled around to face her again. "Why would he even care about what happens to either one of us, anyway? I mean, since you've left and pretty much abandoned any duty that you had to your—our—father, wouldn't he have a straight shot to any inheritance that Father were to give you?"

"Probably, but he's still afraid that if we were to succeed, I wouldn't have to run and hide anymore," Peter pointed out. "If we were to kill Galbatorix and overthrow the Empire, then there would be a new King, one that we wouldn't have betrayed and we wouldn't be outlaws anymore."

"Which, of course, means that you could reclaim the title of . . . whatever our father was," Sandry sighed. "I still don't understand why he's so resentful towards me, though. Not only am I not his firstborn, but I'm also a daughter, which means that the only thing he could want me for is an alliance."

"You've studied your history," Peter said in mock astonishment.

"No," Sandry told him. Then she grinned. "Well, yes, but I also know nobles, Peter. There is a reason why I never married any of those bloody nobles who came around Angela's, looking to court me." Her brother grinned as she blocked his next attack. "I'm not looking to enter into that world."

"Mm-hmm." Peter grinned as he blocked her. "Good luck with that, sister," he told her. She glared at him and in response knocked the sword out of her hand, catching it with her free hand, turning around to face him. Peter held his hands up in surrender, but he was grinning. "I think we've practiced enough for today," he said as applause exploded in the field.

Sandry looked around and chuckled slightly when the Varden and dwarves that were training there applauded the embarrassed siblings. Peter bowed and Sandry followed suit as they left the field together. Pulling on her cloak around her shoulders, Sandry shivered slightly in the cool air.

"So, if you don't mind my asking," Peter said as he slid his sword into its sheath. "How did you learn how to handle a sword so well? I've seen few swordsmen handle a weapon so well and that was at the King's court."

With a small sigh, Sandry walked out towards a balcony overlooking the entire mountain range. Peter joined her as she leaned against the wall, glancing at him slightly. It was a long moment before she said, "All right, you really want to know?"

"Would I have asked if I didn't?"

She smiled slightly as she looked at him. "Her name was Camilla. She was my best friend. We met when I went to Teirm and Angela took me in. Her family owned an inn downtown, but she still came whenever she could. Camilla loved learning about all the different plants and stuff. Angela didn't mind teaching her with me, because healing was one of the most useful skills anybody could have.

"Camilla had four brothers, two older, two younger, all who learned fencing from a distant cousin at the King's court. The eldest, Patrick, knew that it was just as vital for a woman to know how to handle a sword as a man, in case she ever needed to defend himself. He told his parents that his sister would not always be around for them to protect and she needed to know how to, should danger arise.

"Patrick convinced Angela to let him teach me as well. He was a good teacher, patient and kind, but he warned us that the sword could kill as well as injure. If we ever used it for that purpose, be sure that it was for the right reasons." Sandry paused for a minute in the story, letting herself be pulled into the past.

"So . . . what happened to Patrick and Camilla?" Peter suddenly broke into her thoughts. She jumped in surprise, looked at him, then plunged on into the story.

"Camilla and I were helping out in their family's inn when I heard her mother scream for her father. We raced outside to see what the commotion was about and I saw Patrick and two of his brothers being led away by the soldiers, to serve in the army. Camilla, always impulsive, ran forward to stop them, and plunged her dagger into one of the soldiers.

"She killed him, but there were several others to stop her before she could do any more damage. They plunged their sword into her just as their parents came outside.

"Patrick went wild when he saw his sister's dead body lying helplessly on the ground. He snatched up his sword and attacked the soldiers, his brothers right behind them. Andrew, Tristan, and Marcus they slaughtered, along with their parents, but Patrick was left dying.

"I loved them all, Peter, they were like family to me. I ran to Patrick and tried to save him, but he was beyond my help. He died in my arms, his family right around him. His last words that were spoken were, 'Remember what I taught you and fight for justice, Sandry. Live, so that others can be reminded of the horror that have captured my family. Be safe, for all of our sakes, otherwise we shall be forgotten. So long as you are safe, our story will live on, in your own skills and what we have taught you. About fencing, about family, and about life. Live, Sandry, for all of us.'"

Peter was quiet when she finished. "That's . . . that's a pretty intense story," he said at long last. "How old were you when they . . .?"

"Fourteen," she answered. "So two years ago." She shook her head. "It feels like a lifetime."

"Do you ever think about what might have happened, had we grown up together?" Peter said after a minute. "What could have been?"

She looked at him. "Every day."


	10. A Change in the Tide

**The Herbalist's Apprentice**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Ten: A Change in the Tide

Sandry was sitting outside, watching the stars as they twinkled overhead, shining down at the young witch as she shivered slightly, her blue eyes focused on the heavens with her sword lying harmlessly next to her. She felt something heavy drape around her shoulders and looked up to find Eragon placing his cloak around her before he sat down next to her.

"It's a cold night," he observed slightly. "You'll be warmer that way." She smiled slightly as she drew the cloak tighter around her. "I'm sorry that everything's so hectic lately."

"Did you expect it to be anything but?" Sandry replied dryly as she looked sideways at him. "Eragon, you're the Rider, an important part of the Varden—perhaps the most important—and I understand that. It just gets lonely sometimes," she said softly.

Eragon sighed. "If I tell you something, can you promise to keep it a secret?" he asked. Sandry raised her eyebrows. "To everyone but Peter," he elaborated. She nodded. "Okay, nobody is supposed to know this before the ceremonies tomorrow, but the Council has elected for Nasuada to take her father's place. It's going to be announced tomorrow."

"Nasuada?" Sandry repeated, surprised. She had met Ajihad's daughter, but she was only a handful of years older than the two of them. There was no real reason why they would pick her, except she was easier to control.

"What have you done?" she said, eyeing her sweetheart carefully. Eragon fought a small smile and she shook her head, already knowing the answer. "Well, I highly doubt they'll be too pleased about that, if they find out. Tomorrow should be interesting, in any case."

"That's one way to put it," Eragon agreed with a smile. He shook his head as she glanced upward, towards the stars again. "Things have definitely changed. I can no longer remain independent here, as I wanted to."

"Change comes as sure as the tides," Sandry replied softly, "and just as often. In order to do what's right, we must ride swiftly through them or lose our ventures." She smiled at Eragon's baffled expression and shook her head. "Sorry, it's something my mother used to tell me, before she died."

"What was she like?"

Sandry stopped for a minute, her mind flashing back to those long-forgotten memories, in the inn with her mother, when she had simply been the innkeeper's daughter instead of an apprentice healer and witch. "She was . . . very kind," she whispered softly. "And beautiful. I remember, she had the most beautiful shade of red hair and green eyes." She paused slightly. "And she was so strong, able to keep the inn running on her own, while raising a child and without her husband." Sandry shook her head. "Except their marriage was never really valid. He was married to another woman the entire time. And then he went back to her, because she couldn't give him a son."

Eragon reached out and pulled her against him, embracing her gently and she laid her head onto his shoulder. "So, if we should ever meet your father on the battlefield," he asked, "do you want me to take care of him or do you want a clear shot at him?"

Sandry chuckled as she looked up at him. "I don't think it's my father that we're going to need to worry about," she replied. "It's my brother. Not Peter," she added, reading his expression. "I've got another one. Éamonn. He's a couple years younger than me. And according to Peter, he can be quite a menace." She shook her head.

"Do you really think that the Varden's the safest place for you, if your brother is going to come after you?" Eragon asked her.

"Well, where else could possibly be safer?" Sandry replied, sitting up to look at him incredulously. She knew that he was right, but really, where else was safe right now? "Besides, what if something happens and they need as many healers as they have? Eragon, I can't go anywhere. And where could I possibly go?"

"With me," Eragon said grimly. She stared at him. "We're to head to Ellesméra after the ceremonies, to settle matters with them. The Varden lost contact with them after Arya was captured." He took her hand into hers. "Sandry, come with me. It will be safe there, I promise. Arya has already agreed to your coming."

"But what about Peter?"

"Peter, too," he affirmed with a shrug. "They'll be able to spare him and besides, it might make an impression if we arrive with a member of the Varden to the Queen." She slowly nodded. "Sandry, come with me. I might be gone for the months and I couldn't bear the thought of us apart, not right when this was first beginning."

He had thought of everything, she thought in admiration of the Rider. He really had thought all of it out, just to convince her to go. How could she say no?

In order to give herself time to think, Sandry stood up and walked away from him, staring over the horizon. "You know, I used to thrive on the tales of people having adventures and fighting for what was right," she said softly. "Real life isn't how it is in tales."

"No," Eragon agreed as he walked over to her, wrapping her arms around her carefully. "But on a very rare occasion, it can be even better." Smiling down at her, Eragon kissed her forehead. "It won't be for long; I doubt Nasuada will be able to keep us away for more than a few months."

Sandry stared over the mountain range. "I'll go," she said. Eragon looked at her quickly. "It might be exciting to see the elves' haven. I would love to see it and it might be my only chance to get to."

"You won't regret it," Eragon promised her.

--

The sun was rising slowly in the sky when Sandry returned to her bedchambers and found her brother lying flat on his back, snoring slightly. She took one look at him and shook her head. "Why do men insist on drinking so much that it does this to them?" she muttered as she walked over to her brother. "Peter, wake up," she ordered, shaking him. He moaned, trying to push her away. "Come on, big brother, we have to get to the funeral and then the succession ceremonies."

"No," Peter muttered as he pushed her away. "No, not going. Stay here. Head spinning."

"Get up," Sandry snapped, grabbing her brother's arm and hoisting him up. Peter groaned as he pushed himself up and she pushed him into a chair. With a sigh, she walked over to her worktable and started to mix some ingredients into a pot, swirling it together. Peter had his head down, looking ill as she poured it into a glass. "Do not go back to sleep on me, Peter," she warned and he looked up at her miserably. She handed him the glass. "Here, drink this. Just don't ask what's in it," she added dryly.

"I'll try anything," he said numbly as he took the glass, downing it in one gulp. And instantly made a face. "Good gods! What the heck did you put into that thing?" he demanded, shoving the glass as far away from him as he could possibly put it.

"Helped, though, didn't it?" Sandry responded, tossing a sheet of her hair back as she looked towards him placidly. Peter was about to retort, then considered and nodded, looking bewildered.

"Well, actually, it did. A bit," he added. "What is in that thing?" he wanted to know, staring at the glass.

"Trust me, you do not want to know," she replied, shaking her head as she tossed his clothes towards him. "It'll take about ten minutes for the full effects to kick in. Get dressed, we're going to be late."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Peter groaned as she left the room to let him have the room to himself. She sighed as she sat down in one of the chairs, leaning her hair back. "Did Eragon talk to you about going to Ellesméra?" he called through the closed door.

"He told me yesterday," Sandry responded. "Do you really think that it's a good idea, us going to the elfish lands? I mean, wouldn't we be safer to stay here, if our brother's going to come after us?"

"Except I don't think that the Varden's going to be staying here," Peter said as he appeared. "Besides, we can't live our lives in fear, Sandry. Eventually, we're going to have to live them. You really want to miss out on this chance? It's an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here. Plus, if we don't go, then you're going to look back down the road someday and wonder what if." He smiled at her and she reluctantly smiled back.

"I've already got my 'what ifs'," she replied dryly. Both of them knew what she was talking about as she said that.

"Then maybe this time you can have something more," he told her as he hugged her tightly. "Come on, what happened to that girl who was so certain she knew what she wanted?"

Sandry sighed. "I'm just afraid of what's going to happen, should we fail," she said softly.

"We won't fail," Peter assured her. "The future is bright and beautiful. You'll see," he said. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

--

Sandry didn't remember much of the funeral. It was just the same as it had been at Camilla and Patrick's, as though she were in a fog, remembering only what she remembered about them, her memories of their deaths fresh in her mind and paralyzing her. Ajihad's, while the circumstances were different, was the same. She could not stop thinking about what the war was costing and what lay ahead. But the benefits far outweighed the costs, in the end. Peter was right, the future was bright and beautiful. And Ajihad had helped them to fight for the freedom from tyranny.

The ceremony, however, she remembered every moment of. She and Peter were one of the first ones in the amphitheatre and took their seats as the crowd began to fill around them. It took several minutes until a Council member stood up to the podium. Sandry recognised him as one of the leaders of the battle. "People of the Varden, we last stood here fifteen years ago, at Deynor's death. His successor, Ajihad, did more to oppose the Empire and Galbatorix than any before. He won countless battles against superior forces. He nearly killed Durza, putting a scratch on the Shade's blade. And greatest of all, he welcomed Rider Eragon and Saphira into Tronjheim."

At the mention of Eragon, Sandry stared down at the Rider, who stood with Arya, Nasuada, and the rest of the Council down at the podium. He looked worried, yet confident, and calm. She was impressed when he didn't even react when someone shouted out his name for the succession. Nobody seemed very surprised when the Council selected Nasuada to be the leader.

One by one, the clans—elf, dwarf, human, and Varden—all swore allegiance to Nasuada. Then, to everyone but Sandry and Peter's surprise, Eragon knelt down and swore fealty to Nasuada.

"They don't seem very pleased about this," Peter whispered to his sister. Sandry looked down to the Council and saw the outrage on their faces and managed not to laugh.

"Good," she said cheerfully. "That will teach them not to mess with power. It's not good for anybody to hold that much authority in their hands. Look what it did to Galbatorix." Peter grinned back as the ceremony continued and Sandry returned her attention back to it.

Nasuada looked towards the people that were in the amphitheatre, beaming up at them. "People of the Varden," she called. "As my father did before me, I give my life to you and our cause. I will never cease fighting until the Urgals are vanquished, Galbatorix is dead, and Alagaësia is free once more. Therefore, I say to you, now is the time to prepare. Here in Farthen Dûr—after endless skirmishes—we won our greatest battle. It is our turn to strike back. Galbatorix is weak after losing so many forces and there will never again be such an opportunity. Therefore, I say again, now is the time to prepare so that we may once more stand victorious!"

Cheers rose through the air and Sandry looked towards her brother. "Well," she said softly, "everything is about the change again."

"For good or bad, only time will decide," Peter replied. "The wheel changes and turns again, only to return." He looked towards Sandry, who held her gaze with her brother. "To Ellesméra, then?"

"To Ellesméra," Sandry agreed. "And towards whatever destiny may hold for the both of us."


End file.
